


Strings

by HoldOnImConfused



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bottom Daryl Dixon, M/M, Smut, Top Rick Grimes, Zombie Apocalypse, deffo feelings alright, dream - Freeform, prison era, some feelings I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoldOnImConfused/pseuds/HoldOnImConfused
Summary: Life at the prison moves along after they've taken Woodbury in and through both good and mainly bad dreams, Rick is faced with something he hadn't realized.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 131





	Strings

_“Merle! Merle! Chug yer ass out ‘ere, got us some squirrel, stew ‘em up.”_

_“Daryl, slow up I need to talk to you for a bit.”_

_“About what?”_

_“About merle, there was a problem in Atlanta.”_

_“He dead?”_

_“Not sure.”_

_“He either ‘s ‘r he ain’t!”_

_“There’s no easy way to say this..”_

_“Who are you?”_

_“Rick Grimes._

_“Rick Grimes? Ye got somethin’ ye wanna tell me?”_

Rick woke with a start, felt the sweat clinging to his skin and his breaths escaping him one beat too fast for it to be comfortable. He had no reason for the way his sheets on the cot felt clammy against his skin, the prison air wasn’t warm in the middle of the night, it was a fact he became well reminded of as soon as the cool air infested the sheen layer which had lay siege on his body as soon as his heart started slowing down. When the shrill down his spine coursed all slithering like a snake, nudging it’s hunt closer to its pray he drew the sheets closer to his body to preserve the what little heat he had safely tucked beneath it.

Shit, it wasn’t like it was the first time he had tossed and turned in a violent battle against peaceful sleep with parts of his journey, of his group, his family, invading his mind and dreams, giving him a rough morning to wake up to. The sleep would cling to his eyes, stabbing at their soreness and his body would ache. He’d dreamt about the farm and the tiny fracture of peace they had felt there, followed by the horridness of what had brought them there in the first place, what it had left them with once it fell. He’d probably dreamt of Carl almost dying the most and that was the one dream that left him the most deprived of rest, come morning.

He’d dream about the time after the long winter, about him and Daryl walking through the woods and how he’d felt every nerve of his body sighing in torturous bliss as they had laid eyes on the prison for the first time. Didn’t matter how many that had turned, trapped behind the fences, dead pale eyes, hollow and robbed of human warmth. It didn’t matter how many he was expecting inside, Rick just saw beyond them, only one thing in his mind, that it could be somewhere safe for them. They would have the fences, the space, somewhere to sleep and breathe because shit they had needed it. And they had taken it.

He’d dreamt of the night he’d killed Shane, unlike the memory of Carl which frequently haunted him even to this day, killing his best friend only left boiling anger in his gut when he woke up, morbidly mixed with a sense of grief he didn’t want to possess, not after what had happened. It wasn’t that Rick wasn’t sad about it really, he’d lost his best friend due to the malformed greed of love which pushed humans to something ugly. He mourned and he waged war at the same time, he hadn’t had a choice, Shane hadn’t given him one in the end and what good had any of it done in the end? He was left with the blood on his hands, taunting him in every reflection before it vanished when he turned his eyes to look at them and Lori hadn’t made it anyway, just gone. After he’d dreamt about Shane, once the anger for being pushed by his best friend to end up guilty for what he did, even if he didn’t have a choice in the matter, he’d spend his time leaning his back against the wall and morbidly chuckle to himself. The prison walls would bear witness to his muttering, the whispers he would pass to Shane, like they were bickering as friends would do. He’d call out on how stupid they had been, how they’d ruined each other for the sake of a girl and he would describe their fatal spat as the apocalypse equivalence of a teenage disagreement where one partner would find the other making out with another at the back of a truck during a drive-in cinema. For some fucked up reason, it helped Rick through the night.

He’d dreamt about the long winter and how scarce they had been on food. Every day had been more of the regular struggle in the world of the damned, where the dead were at their feet chasing, clawing, snapping their teeth at them just waiting for the one who was next to slip. His group had fought the hunger, exhaustion and the cold, huddled up closely tucked together to preserve what warmth they could muster. All but Daryl, the man opting to keep watch or go hunting despite the fact that Rick had clearly told him at the farm that he didn’t owe them anything, he still didn’t, shit if anything their group owed Daryl more than they could ever repay, he did too, yet the hunter had kept both close and far. Despite their bad start of cuffing Merle to the roof, Daryl had not only stayed, but he had kept walking when the others needed to rest, offered them food when he needed it just as much, and to Rick he’d given his loyalty despite what he had done and Rick still sometimes doubted he deserved it.

Daryl didn’t huddle up with them no matter how cold he’d gotten, Rick had guessed Andrea shooting him, the walkers in the barn, Randall and everything that had gone south at the farm had left its dent. Rick had offered, asked him to slow down and get a good night’s rest, made sure he’d known the others could carry the group for a bit, but it had been like arguing with a brick wall and Rick had realized later that if the man had relented, his baby girl growing inside of Lori at the time, may not have made it to the prison. They had needed to push on, they had needed the food, they had needed the sleep and Daryl given that.

It had been the same when Rick had toppled viciously with his hidden twist of crazy after Lori. With the aftermath Rick wasn’t stupid about it, he should have been there, he should have gone for the run, he should have done whatever he could to get the formula for the baby and instead he’d lost his mind in a obnoxious walker slaughter fest, like he was moving to a silent soundtrack in his brain that urged him to keep cleaving and chopping at the dead ones, never to let the music fade. It had just been one walker after the next and the flying blood and dead guts before him. Rick may have come out on top from his topple with a mental break down, but it hadn’t come without damage. Because Rick hadn’t been there, Maggie and Daryl had, at least Rick liked to think that he’d become able to live with that guilt if he got the chance to pick any of them.

Rick had dreamt so many times, every night a different kind of blessing or a curse, but he’d never dreamt as far back as he had, to the very first day when he’d met Daryl and he sure as fuck hadn’t woken up hard as a rock with the flashing of crystal blues before his own.

 _You got something you wanna tell me?_ And Rick supposed that yea, maybe he did.

Rick had thought that his sex drive had died off along with Lori, he sure hadn’t ever looked at anyone and felt anything rousing a pulse in his body unless it was out of anger and the need to kill to survive, which wasn’t even the same kind of boiling. But it was clearly very much alive by the throb of his dick begging for attention and for once he was happy about taking the Woodbury people in, giving him a moment to mind himself and breathe. Well, not entirely glad, he didn’t like the fact that the new people had made Daryl shy away from the group again after he’d just started merging with them, how the path they had started on since the farm had started folding the group as one, Daryl working his way into it, speaking his mind more, a trustful weighted pat on Rick’s shoulder becoming something more common, them all, a family, now retreating and giving space to the new people. But fuck he was hard.

Daryl’s new cell may have been the one furthest away from his family for his own reasons, just like he hadn’t chosen to hunker down to share warmth over the long winter. He was solitary, chose to be when he needed it and whenever he started to soften toward them, something would pull him back again, be it survival or losing people. It had been good for a while, after Judith he’d stepped up and helped with the management while Rick had been on his loony walker trip and even when Rick had come back to his senses he hadn’t fully given the reins back until Rick had steady footing again. He’d been able to read it, waiting for the right time when Rick wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the responsibility of the group. Then Merle had gone and gotten himself killed, Daryl had held it together through the war with the governor because Rick had needed him to. He pulled away, but he always kept one step behind Rick and maybe it was selfish of Rick, because he knew this, but it was exactly why he his feet touched the cold floor and he was moving.

The rest of the prison were still sound asleep by the sound of the light snores as Rick kept walking and although he was glad for the people they had taken in, knowing it would make them stronger to have more people, part of him still dreaded it, because Daryl’s old cell was empty after Woodbury, a hurting reminder that he’d always frown at when passing by because Daryl once again had made space between himself and his family and the only relief Rick had left was that at least the hunter still slept in the block, probably only because he still needed to be ready to pinch in if shit hit the fan, if it hadn’t been for that Rick was sure Daryl would have opted to the boiler room or somewhere far from the others, he’d may even had eneded up camping on the roof to get his space.

Rick stopped to listen once he reached the end of the block, the low breathing he could barely hear wasn’t deep enough to leave someone sound asleep, unlike the rest of the prison with low snores and sheets shuffling when someone turned, and even if he had been getting some shut eye the man was the lightest sleeper Rick had ever met, a feat their survival humbly bowed to with a _thank you very much_ kindly added to it.

“Rick..?” Shit, his voice was so husky and pitched low, he’d definitely been getting some sleep at least, not that Rick ever thought he’d be good enough to sneak up on the man, especially not with Daryl constantly marking him out on heavy stepping and crunching twigs, told him he better focus on his tomatoes rather than hunting, but he never asked Rick to stay behind whenever he joined a hunt.

“Fight me on this.” Rick had nothing else to say, dream still consuming his head, moving inside the cell, hovering over the bed, over Daryl, watching the confusion drape itself like a theatric curtain splitting for the grand finale. Rick sunk himself down, not enough to pin but fitting onto the cot, making space for himself on top of the man, those thin lips parting to protest when Rick silenced them with his own, snaking a hand into the hair that had once been lighter and short, now after their time of surviving, longer, a bit darker. The kiss was heavy, was making Rick’s mind boil, getting devoured by the feel of it, he hadn’t imagined it would feel like it did, shit if he thought Lori’s death had him lose his mind, then this was completely different.

“Fight me if you don’t want it.” There was a hand gripping his shirt, saving whatever distance that yet remained between them, pinned between chests breathing, Rick only felt it after speaking, with his head drawn back just enough to do so, one second.. two, three even, to give the hunter enough time to do as instructed should he wish, then he sunk his lips down again, felt those clutching fingers ease their grip, felt Daryl’s lips part against his own. The once protesting hand sought its way out from between them, removing the last remaining wall of defense and if Daryl rose or if Rick sunk further, he couldn’t tell but he could feel the breaths and their hearts beating, chest to chest as he sought for more with his tongue, tasting, licking, soft kisses as much as they were rough and hungry.

His hands were traveling, feeling, exploring and Daryl’s breaths were getting heavier between their lips, the hunter wasn’t one for touching, Rick knew that. he’d had grown accustomed to the causal seemingly nothing-like reassurances of his, Carol’s too, the two of them alone to share those seemingly nothing-like ones with Daryl, that held so much more than just nothing. Comfort, trust, companionship and security, the unbreakable strings of their importance to each other, the proof that the two of them had managed to crawl into the hunter’s heart and that their family mattered.

Now Daryl’s skin was shivering, because this touch was different, he was uncomfortable, because this wasn’t the seemingly nothing-like reassurance, this was, intimate, and Rick knew that was a whole lot different and yet, the hunter wasn’t trying to pull away from Rick’s hand, he was letting it happen.

Rick thought for a second he’d gone too far when Daryl gasped, Rick’s groin pushed into Daryl’s, a slow grind sending pleasure through his body along with a moment of panic at the hunter’s reaction. What if’s and shouldn’t have’s circling his mind, all the while he was a hypocrite because his groin was still right where he’d left it. Then there was a slight turn to Daryl’s head, heavy lidded eyes shifting back from whatever haze he’d fallen into, thick dilated pupils with only Rick before them, his leg shifting to the side all the while the hunter roughly grabbed at the back of Rick’s skull to force him into another kiss. Shit, Rick felt his lower half slide closer with the added space from the shifted leg, felt the hardness pressed right back against his own and Rick knew it wasn’t just about Daryl letting it happen, the hunter didn’t have to say it for Rick to know that it was because it was him, that Daryl willing to overcome and make the discomfort into something good.

It was driving him insane after that, feeling his senses screech, feeling how they wanted to taste more, feel more, hear more. He sunk his head down into the crook of Daryl’s neck while his hand pushed the shirt up, fingers raking over ribs, soothingly stroking over his chest and he breathed deeply, taking in the smell of sweat, salt, woods, dirt, hunt, a two days old bath at some shitty stream of water Daryl must have come across. He knew was probably delusional, thinking he could smell all these things, they were probably only things his imagination put together with the hunter when his brain would whisper his name. But he kept taking breaths, smelling these scents that bewildered his mind, his tongue tasting them just the same as he pushed it against and over Daryl’s pulse point.

 _Rick Grimes.?_ Shit he could hear the voice so loud and crystal clear. Rick shimmied down, kissing at the exposed shin, feeling the muscles in the hunters stomach contract and release with every breath hitching, felt him twist slightly to both escape and allow Rick to thread his fingers beneath the hem of pants and underwear, never pushing down far just dragging his fingers along the inside, over hip bone, the soft patch of skin, trail of hair, skin, then bone again. Then he couldn’t wait, not when Daryl’s hips arched, seeking friction. Rick’s hand fumbled with the button before he could pull the zipper down, taking Daryl in his hand as the hunter pushed up again, sighing once Rick’s fingers circled around his cock.

 _“Mhm.”_ It was nothing more than a soft hum, swirling into his breath, it was.. captivating, made Rick forget all about his own throbbing member, how Daryl felt in his hand, how he slowly started jerking, uncut skin following his motion, how he could thumb at the head after pulling the skin down, how it would make Daryl twitch to keep the motion going, if not needing it harder. Rick tightened his fingers as he stroked, timing with the mellow thrusts that the hunter seemed to be holding back, wanting him to unleash whatever restraints were holding him, felt his lust chaotically fueling on and the need it created to make it happen. Rick sunk down, leaving the flaming skin kissed, thick with trails of saliva, just the simple whisper of _more_ inside his head, he wetted his lips with his tongue before he wrapped them around the head of Daryl’s cock, feeling the jerk the hunter made slide the member further into his mouth and the suppressed moan that came along with it. He let his tongue slide around the side, it was hard, but not impossible as he gave the cock a slow suck with his muscle pressed against it, testing himself, taking the member further, pulling up, sinking down, adding pressure of lips and easing it, listening to the sharp intakes of breaths and the hums.

He wasn’t sure when Daryl guided one of Rick’s hands to his mouth, used his own fingers to slide Rick’s over the lips before they parted and he lapped his tongue around the digits, hadn’t been sure until he felt how Daryl soaked them in spit. _Fight me if you don’t want this,_ Rick had said, he knew he had, but the warmth around his fingers and the cock in his mouth made him doubt such words had ever passed his own lips, not with Daryl slowly letting himself move his hips, languid rolls growing stronger as Rick just sucked them all down, letting the motions grow heavier, hips close to fucking into his mouth. When Daryl released the hand he’d guided to his mouth, Rick felt the hunters fingers filter through his hair, like it was just another thick part of the woods the hunter moved through like it was nothing, just terrain. He slid himself all down, feeling the tip of Daryl’s cock brush the back of his throat as he brought his hand down, trailing lightly over his balls while being careful not to waste the spit covered fingers, moving beneath them. He swallowed around the length in his mouth, hummed when Daryl’s breath hitched, placed his tongue on the backside of the member as he slid up over it again, never leaving it completely but relishing in the delight shudders and twitches that the cock made.

Fuck it was making his own cock scream for attention, it was damn near painful and he found himself loving this torture on himself, making Daryl twist from pleasure while Rick worked his mouth over him, giving it another deep suck when he slid his fingers against the tight hole, circling it gently, bobbing his head, kept on sucking, swallowing every now and then until Daryl’s hand gripped his hair hard enough to send the stinging sear straight into his head and he pressed through the resistance like a reply to words never shed, carefully pressing and sinking inside with his finger, taking it slow all until Daryl was pushing his hips down on it, either hunting for the slide of Rick’s lips or.. shit. Rick crooked his finger before he pushed again, pulling back, then back in, fingering the hole as best has he could, the only clue he had to go on was Daryl easing on the grip he had on Rick’s hair, like he was told he was doing fucking good.

It was loosening, the more he kept the finger going, tightening as he added another, Daryl gasping once again but kept his minimal movements going, hips pushing down for fingers, then up for mouth, repeating and although Rick was the one stretching and sucking, he felt like the very prey Daryl hunted with the way the hunter was completing the motions.

He’d just added the third finger, managing a few meager stretching thrust with them when Daryl’s hand pulled his lips off his cock by his hair, forcing his head up, then him, leaving Rick with no choice but to follow, lips crashing with Daryl’s, the hunter not even batting an eye when there would definitely be the taste of himself in Rick’s mouth, didn’t stop his tongue from seeking Rick’s mouth. He felt a lazy leg hook itself behind his rear, as well as the tight grip of his hair loosening, leaving his scalp and when Rick felt that now free hand, coordinating with the hunters second one, popping the button of his jeans he muffled a hungry growl against Daryl’s neck, had to keep his face there even when the hunters head turned to search for lips again but settling for Rick’s cheek, because those hands were pushing his pants off his hips.

It was all lost around there, pants pooling around their feet, clothes half on and half off at the same time, only the jerk of Daryl’s leg pushing Rick closer, he was adjusting himself, either on his own or by Daryl’s hand, he had no fucking clue, the only thing he knew was the tight burning heat wrapping itself around his cock, the breaths dying still, the noises suffocating because shit, there were still people sleeping even if they were far away enough, somehow they both seemed to have enough reason in their mind to keep it down, even if Rick wanted to moan from the pressure sucking on his cock as he eased slowly inside, wanting to hear Daryl to the same as his muscles twitched around his cock, as Rick felt the pulse in Daryl’s neck beat their song of lust against his lips. He scraped his teeth against that skin as he stilled, fuck he was deep inside and Daryl was clutching at his cock like the damn snare snapping the neck once they let the hatch fall, like in one of those old western movies.

He’d kept still, kept his teeth on the side of Daryl’s neck as they shifted without really moving. Rick had threaded his arms around the back, like a hug almost, a tight embrace before he slowly slid back before pushing inside again. Close like this, he could hear every silent breath passing Daryl’s lips, could feel the heat of them gently stroke his ear, it took all he had not to start thrusting like a mad man, how those breezes of air made his blood boil, how it made his heart squeeze at first, then the heat pulse as it relaxed, repeating, squeezing, relaxing, sending jolts of blood rushing through his system, hot and burning.

Then he felt the slickness of muscle against that ear that still tingled from the passage of air, a simple stroke of tongue against the shell, and he pushed harder, deepening into Daryl’s heat, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting in again, oh fuck but the friction, saliva and precum slicking them up as he moved, as the clutch like grip eased and tensed, allowed more, craving more, heavier and stronger thrusts. Felt like fucking heaven as his cock devoured and got eaten at the same time, at the heat between their bodies, feeling the sweat build and colliding wherever they had skin touching, so close, he never wanted them to part from the closeness of the embrace, not with one of Daryl’s hand tightly pinned on the top of his arm, the other searching beneath his shirt on the side just to feel, never getting enough. He had to though, because he couldn’t fucking take it, not being touched like that and his cock swallowed like a damn last feast. He pushed himself up and felt Daryl respond, stopping his exploring for a moment to help Rick out of the shirt and then propping himself on his elbow to snake his way out of his own.

Rick really thought their skin was burning on touch alone, flushed red as he rejoiced in the fire it spread into his fingers when he had his palm flat down on Daryl’s chest, fingers spread like he could transfer everything inside the hunter into himself. Their pants were still pooled around their feet but fuck, he could live with that, Daryl’s one knee bent because of the confinement just so he could keep his other leg around Rick, pushing at him from behind, shit, maybe he couldn’t live with it after all, one hazed gaze robbed Rick of the thought that he could. He felt the heat remaining in his fingers, thought he could fucking see the ignited glow of strings follow from Daryl’s chest, chasing after them as he reached behind him, shifting himself in a clumsy manner because it wasn’t easy, half knee-walking the small amount of closer that he needed them to be so that he could tug them off Daryl’s legs, his own didn’t matter, but grabbing that free bent leg and pushing it up with his fingers at the back of the knee did. He felt himself slip further in, as deep as he could go before he started thrusting again with the new leverage at hand, rolling hips, deep inside then back to the brink, sliding his hand down the thigh to grab at the cheek, pushing Daryl into his thrust to lower the sound of their skin colliding.

He was rushing, blood boiling, thoughts left to whatever shit god that had abandoned the world to the dead, felt that right there, between them, they were alive despite any odds facing them, he was building, gut pooling. Feather light he trailed his fingers over the cheek, over the hip bone again, the fucking hip bones that had become prominent when the hunter had put himself aside for the sake of their family, only recently gaining some coverage back, Rick remembered how the hunters pants had clung desperately to them during the worst of it, his own too, how they’d made new holes in their belts to keep them on. Feeling flesh over them was a damn fucking blessing, having his cock devoured by mind-numbing friction didn’t stand a chance against that feeling. They traveled, his fingers, finding Daryl’s leaking cock and he resumed the roll of his wrist when he’d closed them around it, merging with the thrusts of his hips, felt his breathing rush along with the hunter’s, panting like smothered madness until he needed those lips again and once they met, Daryl tightened around him, his cock pulsing and twitching in Rick’s fingers as he came, white warm cum nestling itself in pubic hair and stomach, dead silent against his mouth, only the hazy lost rumble of a breathed out pleasured sigh that barely managed to find its way out, just like his own cock was being smothered inside. A tight twitch and a minimal slip of skin and Rick felt it all wash over like a tidal wave, shuddering with his mind pitching black, collapsing onto the cot as he tried to regain any senses, didn’t matter which, just any sense to cling its way back.

He was floating on a surface, warm summer water carrying him, thick over his ears, everything singing in a low mumble beneath water, stuck together, sweaty and calming, he dared opening his eyes even though it was hard to do so, watching Daryl’s face still flushed, how his lids slowly fluttered open like he was responding to Rick opening his own, just like with everything else, always linked up, always knowing, they just always were, a mind as close to one as they could be. He felt the smile on his face, saw Daryl’s own as they lay together, a mess of limbs and a high hanging onto their minds, he felt his smiling lips parts slightly, saw the minimal turn of Daryl’s face, leaning his head toward Rick, he heard that voice in his head again, the dream nestling itself back to his mind.

“What? Ye got somethin’ ye wanna tell me?” Daryl asked before Rick’s mind could whisper those words and Rick closed his eyes again, feeling overwhelmed and complete, warmth pouring into his quiet laugh because fuck, wasn’t he right about that? This damned hunter that had claimed him.

“I think you got me on your strings Daryl Dixon.”

“Shit, you got me so bad.”


End file.
